


It's All Coming Back...

by AutumnLily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Happily Ever After, Heartbreak, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnLily/pseuds/AutumnLily
Summary: Obliviation, a Christmas Ball, and love beyond conventional matters...Dramione.One Shot.Mature Themes.Tastes Lemony.HEA.





	It's All Coming Back...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gryff_inTheGame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryff_inTheGame/gifts).



> I was listening to Celine Dion "It's All Coming Back To Me Now", and I had to write this. If you listen to the song before (or while) reading this, you'll have a fantastic overture, the piano and violins really set the scene to the dramatic song. 
> 
> I do not own either the song, nor the characters, I just enjoy them <3
> 
> First draft, Unedited, probably won't revisit to clean it up. Enjoy it as it is, a spontaneous piece at 3am, from a gushy girl listening to love songs, crying under the moon.

Draco checked himself in the mirror one last time before stepping into the green flames flickering in his fireplace. A moment later he stepped into his MOM office, shook off a touch of green dust from his shoulder and made his way to the magically enhanced atrium, enlarged today to accommodate the Ministry’s Christmas Ball. He saw her to his left when he entered, and he purposefully looked away. He didn’t need the distraction of her seductive beauty. He had only caught a glimpse, but he had taken in every inch, crease and nuance. 

Hermione’s eyes passed by the tall, blonde stranger as he gracefully eased himself through the crowd. She had a feeling she knew him but could not place his face. His tall, lithe body sent a shiver from her neck to her breasts, down her stomach, butterflies exploding as he slid between two women from the Department of Experimental Charms. He vanished from view and Hermione gulped. She could not remember ever feeling this physically awakened by anyone. She turned back to her husband and took Ron’s hand, slamming the door to her lust and focusing once again on the soft murmurs surrounding her. 

Harry eyed Hermione suspiciously. He had seen her glance at Draco, noticed the faint blush appear on her neck and the v-line of skin showing above her low-cut gown. He looked around, noticing Draco’s sudden disappearance. Harry took a deep gulp of his fire-whiskey and vervain.

Draco danced with three women from his department as the night continued, and enjoyed the company of each. Wendy, a thirty something brunette with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. When he had dipped her low over his knee, her head back, neck extended, all Draco could think of was his ex-lover… the way the light had bounced off the sheen of sweat on her clavicles, how her freckles had traced constellations from behind her ears to her breasts, how she had tasted as he kissed and licked her from ankles to stomach to mouth, the moans she emitted as she pressed her mound to his mouth, back arched and neck exposed as her face disappeared into shadows of his canopied bed. He had twirled Wendy into the nearby arms of his colleague Darryck, and quickly found the bathroom within which to splash his face with cold water. 

Rosemary asked Draco to dance awhile later. He took her hand and the music changed to a slow, smooth number. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he placed one hand on her hip, the other around her shoulders. She pressed closely to him and rested her head on his chest. Draco reciprocated and nuzzled his face into her neck. She smelled like lavender, and Draco felt his pulse quicken. Lavender, a hint of vanilla, and the undertone of fresh grass clippings – she was wearing the perfume he used to smell on his pillow in the mornings when his bed was empty, yet still warm from… well, from no one, as no one warmed his bed these days. He ran his hand up Rosemary’s back into her hair and gripped a handful of her black tendrils in a tight fist, he inhaled deeply wanting to smell the one he loved in this strange hair, but her sweat was wrong, she was slightly more sour, her hair finer and smoother, it felt wrong in his hands and he felt his stomach turn cold. He stepped back from her and created a more professional distance between the two as soon as the song ended. She indicated she would like another dance and he made a polite excuse and left her in the middle of the floor, alone.  
Draco walked quickly away from Rosemary he closed his eyes, trying to shake out the invasive memories, sniffing deeply to expel the fake comforting scent lingering in his lungs. He wasn’t watching where he was going and bumped right into a short, warm body. His eyes snapped open and he saw Wanda in front of him, squinting up at him through her thick spectacles.

“Oh, Draco!” She enveloped him, and Draco patted her lightly. He had a fondness for Wanda, Wendy’s mother, an administrative genius who was highly regarded and had worked for the Ministry for over eighty years. Wanda had written most of the laws in their time and was the woman everyone consulted before proposing alterations or new legislation. 

“Where are you off to with the stride? You seem in a righteous huff, young man.”

“Wanda,” Draco smiled, “I am on my way to the terrace. I need fresh air. There are too many people in here for my liking, it is too crowded.”

Wanda looked around through her narrow eyes. The night had eased down, most people had already left, and the dance floor was emptier than it had been even half an hour ago. She looked up at Draco and saw him purposefully avoiding the corner where Hermione stood. Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she had seen the two of them conversing at the office, nor had she seen them in discussion this evening. Wanda, a sharp woman, suddenly understood. 

“Come with me, young man. Give this old lady one last thrill before the sunset of my days. One dance, Draco, three minutes of your time, and then you may leave in the huff I found you in.” She extended her arm out and Draco, ever polite in public settings thanks to his mother’s influence, took the ancient, pruning, wise woman by her elbow and led her to a circle of light on the edge of the floor. Wanda took Draco’s left hand and placed it on her hip, placed her right on his lower back and gripped his free hand tightly in hers. 

“I’ll lead, shall I.” She began moving and Draco followed easily, happy to allow her to move them so his mind could wander.

“Draco, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the draft you and Hermione began together a few months ago. I know it is not due until March, however, I wanted to inquire if either of you need a hand with any of the back-dating research, or the legalese? You’re both more than capable, however as my work settles down and my time frees up heading towards retirement I have a few free hours each week and this piece is imperative for the treaty we are proposing to the …” Draco had already tuned out. He had heard the word “Hermione” and seen the determined glint in Wanda’s left eye.

“What are you really asking me, Wanda?”

“I haven’t seen the two of you working on it in a while, Draco, I need to know if the two of you are having any… issues… finding time together?”

“Wanda… I…” His eyes drifted to Hermione. She was laughing, her fingers around a wine goblet, her smile wide and her hair moving across her shoulders. 

Hermione felt eyes on her. She turned away from Padma and saw the blonde gentleman from earlier looking at her, his eyes piercing into hers. He was dancing with Wanda, in step with the music and his dance partner, his hair alight from the flame of the hovering candles. Hermione felt the blush return, her body became warm and she suddenly felt the room was too small. She placed her goblet down and conjured herself a glass of icy water. She dipped a finger in and dragged out an ice cube, running it across her neck. She glanced at the dance floor again and saw he was still staring at her as he was talking to Wanda. Her fingers faltered, she dropped the cube between her breasts – her body was so hot from his intense gaze that it melted immediately, she felt cold water dripping down her torso, into her belly button and soaking into the lacey panties she wore beneath her gown. She turned away to avoid his eyes and asked Padma to repeat what she had been saying. 

Draco looked down at Wanda, Hermione’s silhouette was burnt into his retinas and he wished that he had not found her in the crowd again. His heart hurt from the piece missing, the piece she had taken when she had put an end to their romance. 

“And then she ended it, Wanda. She told me it was no good, she had a husband, Astoria had been buried only nine months, and we could not work together if we continued. She left, and she has been avoiding me since. It has been three months and I still can’t look at another woman the same way, can’t imagine another in the place she occupied in my bed, I look at the contours of other women and I can appreciate them, but I know they would feel wrong in my hands, these hands are only meant for her. My eyes for her. My heart for her.” Draco sighed. “She’s already finished the proposal. We have no more reason to talk. I hadn’t seen her until tonight, and she looked at me like she didn’t know me. She’s banished every memory she and I had ever made.”

“Draco… let’s get that fresh air you needed.”

Wanda led Draco to the terrace and together they leaned over the magical banister overlooking a fake garden, magical stars twinkling above them. Both knew it was an illusion, they were twelve stories below London, however the air was fresher here than it was on the foggy streets above, the stars brighter and the space clearer. 

“May I be frank with you, Draco?”

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Wanda.”

“I am almost one hundred and eleven years old. I have had my share of love, and not all my love has been, what you would say, pure. Torrid affairs are not as torrid as others will make them seem. Affairs are tricky. When one, or both, involved has a partner, then the Mistress – or, in your case, Draco, the Master – on the side must accept that their love will never be fully returned. How can it be when the love blossomed from earth poisoned with lies and deception? If the marriage were to dissolve and the affair become public, how would the couple-ship be accepted? How would you ever trust a person you know can so easily deceive someone they claim to be devoted to?”

“Wanda - ”

“It’s rude to interrupt, young Malfoy, I know Narcissa taught you better than to disrespect your elders. You can make your justifications once I am done.”  
“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy. Where was I… Love. It is difficult, it is messy, but it is the only thing in the known existence stronger than magic. Love is the only essence we, as weavers of reality, have not been able to truly replicate, dissect, understand. Love comes in all forms – there is the love between parents and children, between siblings, between friends, lovers, country-men, between familiar and human. Love is… ineffable. Inexplainable. Obscure, frightening, heightening, euphoric. Draco… not everyone who couples is meant to couple for ever. Every sunrise has a sunset, every flower loses its petals, and every wave returns to the ocean. A marriage is only a legal binding. Love surpasses all of mans rules. When one finds a true love, a love that is all encompassing and that pushes thoughts of all others out of mind, then one must cherish, Draco, one must hold it rightly, tightly and sweetly. Use your grace, young man, use your mind, use your courage and your wiles. Remind yourself that a love that is pure is better than an empty marriage, and that..."

Wanda suddenly went quiet. Draco turned and saw Hermione standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Wanda, would you mind ever so much if I have a word?”

“Of course, dear, what do you need?”

“Oh, I…” Hermione stuttered, “I didn’t mean with you.” A fierce blush appeared on her cheeks and Wanda smiled. 

Wanda patted Draco’s hand. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Draco. Send my love to your mother.” Wanda disapparated and the balcony, although emptier, felt crowded.

Hermione walked towards Draco. Her gown rippled under the glow of the stars as she gently placed one foot in front of the other. Draco’s breath caught in his throat. Every moment without her had felt so cold that he thought he would freeze in his bed alone, reaching into the dark to find her body, always burning with fiery desire and passion blazing from her eyes, radiating from her fingers tips, setting his skin alight and his hair on end. The nights he had tried to push out of his mind were flooding the forefront of his mind; the nights of endless pleasure, the looks, the touch, the emotions, his name in her voice, he had never heard his name said the way she whispered it, caressing each syllable causing him to swell beyond the point of physical realms.

He gulped.

She stood before him, a dazzling display of tousled hair, bright eyes, and that smile that had shaken him to his core since he had first set eyes on her that afternoon on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It took everything he had to stay still, to stay strong, when every cell in his body was urging him to cry her name out and let the pain inside out, to place all his anguish in front of her and beg her to come back to him, to allow him to touch her once more, to breathe her in and taste her tongue, to kneel and clean her feet with his tears.

“My name is Hermione. I just, I saw you watching me earlier, your face was knowing, yet I can’t place you. You’re obviously from the Ministry,” she laughed and extended her arm, “after all we are at the Ministry’s Ball… unless, of course, you’re here as a guest?”

“Hermione?” Draco’s stomach fell through to the floor. The rage that had been mounting, the words he had been preparing, the heat inside at the lust her body brought upon him, and the emptiness were gone.

“Hermione,"she repeated, "I know, an unusual name, it was my Grandmothers.”

“Hermione?” Draco strode forwards and grabbed her upper arms hard, thumbs pressing in deep enough to create feint bruises. “Hermione!” His forehead creased as he searched her eyes and found nothing but confusion and affront at being manhandled by a stranger – he was a stranger to her. He let go and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything, Hermione.” A tear escaped his eye and trickled down his cheek. He turned from her and she stood still, unsure of what had just happened and why he was crying for having had touched her.

“Uh, it’s alright, I’m sure it won’t, it won’t bruise deeply. Are you OK?” She felt drawn towards the ill-behaved man staring off the balcony’s edge. She rubbed her arms and felt the warmth his hands had left. He had hurt her, but her body had responded to his touch as if his pressing hands were ropes binding her to him. She was used to feeling in control, used to being in control, not only of herself but of any situation she found herself in, yet he was causing her to stutter, to breathe purposely to calm her body, to wait for answers she had to right to expect. 

“Draco?” 

That one word, his word, his name, like honey dripping from her mouth. He turned and grabbed her wrist and disapparated with her, he pushed her against the emerald green silk lining of his entrance foyer wall and kissed her, his hands this time in HER hair, around HER body, HER breasts against his chest, HER thigh against his leg, it was Hermione, and she was kissing him back with vigour and enthusiasm and she was crying, he was crying, she was licking his tears off his chin and he was inhaling her hair, scrunching it between his fingers like one does with petals to release their oils and suck in their scent. 

“Where are we?” She gasped.

“We’re together.”

“I’m married, I shouldn’t be - ”

“You shouldn’t still be with him, that is the only thing you shouldn’t be doing, don’t ruin this, this may be our last time together. I can’t handle this heartache anymore; did you obliviate yourself? Did you cast me out of your mind? Did it work? You saw me and your body called to me, you are here with me, you’re not fighting me, you’re giving yourself to me…” He flattened his tongue against her neck and ran it down to the exposed flesh of her chest, he ripped open the neckline and released her nipples, he suckled at them as though she held the milk of life and he was dying, he felt like he had died without her, her flesh, her sweat was bringing him back to life.

“We’ve done this before? We can’t have! I don’t know you!” She pushed him off her and stared accusingly at him. “Who ARE you?” 

“You know my name.”

“Only because I heard Wanda use it,” she responded defiantly.

“No. Because you have whispered it repetitively in my bed, in my lounge room, in my study, you’ve cried my name in pleasure and found only my name when your golden moments have surfaced. You cry after we make love, Hermione, you cling to me in your sleep and you sweat from the back of your knees when I have you on all fours which is the easiest position for you to climax in. I know you inside and out, not just your body but your mind and your heart. I know that you had a white quilt with sunflowers on it as a child and that you spilled your first ink well across it when you were eleven and you were too compliant with the school rules to use magic to clean it so you got your mother to cut it up and make your teddy bear a dress from the only clear section left. I know that you had your first kiss in the library stacks at Hogwarts hidden behind the arithmancy shelf as that is the last visited row, Viktor Krum kissed you and you said it felt slimy but that he tasted like peppermint which made it quite pleasant. I know that you have freckles behind your ears, that you have a small moon shaped birth mark on the inside of your left ankle, I know because I’ve held your legs up, ankles behind your ears as I’ve moved above you and you’ve scratched my hips so hard I have scars which perfectly fit the crescents of your nails. I know that your hair is coarse and that you wish it were straight, but I don’t, I like the curls and the bounce and the mouthfuls I get when you roll onto me in the middle of the night. I know that when you can’t sleep you open the window and look up at the stars and attempt to create poetry, I know your favourite poem, you wrote it for me…” Draco was out of breath. 

“Go on…” her tone implored him. 

“Go on?”

“My favourite poem… recite it for me, Draco.”

He fell to his knee and crawled towards her. He looked up at her as she leaned against his wall. 

“I’ll use my mouth to share my secrets,  
if you use your heart to guard them.  
I’ll hold your mind in precious hands  
while we wander round the garden.

I’ll split myself in two for you,  
if you do the same for me.  
I’ll love your body fiercely now,  
soon you’ll just be a memory.”

“Oh Merlin!” Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth. Her face scrunched up. Draco continued forwards and reached her feet, he moved to sit back on his haunches and he cradled her left foot on his knee. He slid the bottom of her gown up to reveal the birthmark and he bent forwards, his lips met her skin and he felt shivers reverberating up her body from his touch.

“Oh, Merline, indeed.” He moved his hands up her calf, reaching her knee, and higher, to her inner thighs. She didn’t move. She looked down at him.

“I don’t remember you. How can I not remember you?”

“Just enjoy this, Hermione. Please, just let me have you one last time. Please.”

“I can’t, I need to know more!” She fell to her knees in front of him, they were now at equal height and this time it was her lips that closed the gap. She felt his face, her hands tracing his jaw, his ear lobes, fingering his locks and stroking his scalp. 

“Draco…” 

“Oh, yes, Hermione, please, say my name again…”

“Draco, Draco, Draco” she whispered his name and it felt natural, her lips curled around his letters like a grapevine on a stake, and Draco felt himself growing hard as she repeated his name in her breathy tone.

“I need you, Hermione. I need you like flames need fuel, like the pull of the ocean needs the moon,”

“I need to know, Draco. I feel I have gone too far already, I doubt I’ll leave here tonight, but I need to know.”

“There were flashes of pulsing lights, we had golden moments, we were immaculate, pure and perfect when we were together.”

“How did we come to be we?”

“We were working on a proposal for the upcoming treaty, the candles were dying out and the parchment was dry and rough under hand. You leaned forwards for a book and tipped the inkwell on my lap. You cursed under your breath, it was the first time I heard you curse, it was beautiful, I laughed, and it eased the pressure we’d been labouring under. You laughed, too, and it tinkled in my ears, your laugh, so rare, sounded like wedding bells to me. I was overworked and under slept, I told you not to worry, that I’d spilled ink on much worse in the past, across the family tapestry and how my father had caned me. You placed your hand over mine and told me he was a bastard for treating a child that way, that parents should comfort children. You told me about your quilt, how your mother had helped you instead of punishing you. The candle went out. Your hand was still on mine. I could hear you breathing, and it sounded different. I asked if you were alright and you told me yes, you said you felt relaxed for the first time in months. You told me the dark always eased you as no one could see you, there was less pressure to perform, to be the Mighty Hermione Granger, that in the dark no one could see your weaknesses or your tears. You never moved your hand from mine. We sat like that for a while, it was comfortable, your presence was peaceful. I told you the dark had frightened me as a child, that at school I forced myself to wander the dark Slytherin Quarters to attempt to make the dark scared of me, instead. You laughed at that and told me I had always seemed so confident, that I always seemed I could do anything I chose to put my mind to. So, I chose to do something. I found your lips in the dark. I whispered to you that no one could see us here, that we could be alone for hours and that we could bare ourselves in ways with each other that we probably never had or would with anyone else. I told you I’d loved you since school and that working with you had given me life after the death of my wife. You told me that your husband was sleeping with an old girlfriend from High School. How you stayed together for the sake of “old times” and the children. That you were waiting for them to finish school before separating. How you’d been so lonely in the night, crying and reciting poetry to the moon - you told me a poem that night.”

“Recite me the poem, Draco.”

“Once a Princess, Now a Queen,  
Married to a man so mean.  
Vitriol and Cigarettes,  
Still, I can’t divorce you yet.

Kids may laugh, but mother cries,  
Some days I wish that you would die.  
But as the earth revolves the sun,  
I’ll stay until what’s done is done.”

“And then?”

“Then I told you I wanted to feel you, that I wanted to make you feel warm and loved and cherished. I wanted to feel good, I wanted to make you feel good, I wanted your scent all over me and you giggled and told me I sounded dirty and I growled and told you I was dirty, that when we were together I had thoughts that would make you want to imprison me, but I could hold them in no longer and that I was going to take you. You went silent. I pointed my wand at the ceiling and a single candle gave me enough light to see you smirking. I threw the paperwork off the desk, I picked you up and laid you down, I knelt over you and savored having you underneath me, I pushed my body against yours and you raised your hips and opened your lips, your breathe smelled like cinnamon and your tongue tasted like cream, you breathed into my mouth and I drew you inside and then I was inside you and we were one, and we panted together, and you rolled us over to straddle me and you whispered in my ear as your breasts rubbed against my chest, you told that you wanted me to open my eyes and watch you ride, but I couldn’t open them, I knew if I did it would be over for me, and you pried my lids apart and I saw your face, intent and glistening and smiling down at me, and you rocked and I came inside you and you came as you felt me lose control and we collapsed together. You held on to me. I picked up my wand and took us to my bed, we apparated there still entwined and you fell asleep atop me, I fell asleep inside you.”

“Coconut…”

“Coconut? Coconut! Yes, Hermione, I ran us a bath and I washed you when we woke up, I used coconut body wash on you, and I massaged it into your hair to rid you of my scent. Do you, are you remembering?” Draco cupped her face in his hands. 

“You hold me like this before you kiss me.”

“Yes, always, you’re precious.”

“Draco… it seems too perfect. If it was like this why don’t I remember?”

“There were… there were hours that went on for days, there were things said that we didn’t mean, there were empty threats and hollow lies. You told me you had to stop until you left your husband. You broke my heart. You hurt me, so I tried to hurt you deeper. I told you that if you left me I would never forgive you, I would find some slag and shatter all the memories of you. You cried, and you walked out, you left me alone and I … I tried not to waste any of my time on you since then. But I never did, Hermione, I never touched another. I didn’t know you didn’t remember me, I was waiting for you to come home to me, I would have waited forever. Baby, touch me, please, Hermione, kiss me, heal me.”

“Draco… I, I recall slamming the door. I walked out, and I dried my face and I needed you out of my head, out of my heart. It hurt too much. I wasn’t thinking straight, my heart, Draco, I had never loved like that, so I had never hurt like that… I pointed my wand at my mind and focused on your face, your hands on mine, your scent, your voice, and I obliviated myself. Can you forgive me all this? All this heartache, this pain, all these months alone?”

“If I forgive you all this, will you forgive me all that?”

Hermione kissed him. She kissed him like it was their first kiss, for her it was, she had vague memories that felt more like dreams, and she wanted, she needed, to replace this fog like vision with reality, with the firmness of his body and the sweetness of his mouth.

“Touch me like this,” she moved his hands in circles on her thighs, “Kiss me like this”, she opened her mouth and moved her tongue against his, biting him, suckling him, “hold me like this,” she closed the gap between them and straddled him, his arms slithered round her waist and he felt the flashes of lights erupting through his body once more.

“Oh, Draco, the pleasure, I remember feeling more with you than with anyone, you touched me in ways only I have touched myself, oh, Draco, it feels as though we lost this long ago, but it’s starting to come back.” 

Draco dragged his teeth across her shoulder and he inhaled her sweat, her perfume, he had her now, he could breath in the vanilla, the lavender, the fresh grass and he could breathe and he felt like he was taking his first breathe. 

“Never leave me again, never, Hermione, I can’t take it, you can’t take it, if you have to banish all our memories and slam the door on our future, if you had to make yourself strong again by obliviation, it’s not worth it, your mind is too wondrous to mess with, your body too perfect to lose, your heart too fragile to break. Please, Hermione, stay with me this time, be mine, stay with me, stay with me.”

“Yes, Draco, yes, I’ll stay with you, I’ll love you in more ways than laws allow, I’ll touch you like this,” he moaned, “I’ll kiss you like that, I’ll show you myself and I’ll see you and we’ll witness each other, we’ll give each other our flesh and our fantasies, and our future is entwined, I am yours, I am yours, I am yours….” She held him tight, “we’ll forgive and forget, it will all come back to us, Draco, look at me, and let me look at you, oh yes, Draco, I see what I want to see, I see myself in you, my future in you, I see you, Draco, I see you as a man, not a Malfoy, not a Minister, as a man, my man, I see you, I hold you, I love you…”

Draco picked her up, Hermione’s legs were around his waist and he walked them to his bedroom. She saw the bed and she smiled. She could remember how soft his pillows felt under her belly as he mounted her from behind, could remember the scent of his semen on the sheets as they slithered around each other like snakes, she could remember the heaviness of the doona as he covered her before sleep, his arm across her waist as he fell asleep and she lay there watching the moon through the window whispering poems to him in his sleep.

“I remember, Draco, one night in here, you’d leveraged my hips on your pillow and pile driven me into the mattress, you made me scream and I came so hard I pushed you out and my fluids exploded on to and you laughed and revelled in it, and I laughed, I was so far gone I could have melted into a puddle of cum, and you covered yourself in my juice and you told me you wanted to stink like me forever, that you felt more animal than man and that my pheromones were so potent you felt you could get me pregnant just by looking at me, and then you hovered above me, the tip of your cock was barely grazing my clit and you held my gaze and directed me to keep looking at you. All you did was oh so softly rock your head against my nub, so soft, so gentle and you spoke the whole time, you told me you loved me, that you were proud of how I was following my heart, how one day we’d be free, how much you wanted to marry me, to call me your wife, to show me off to others, how you so desperately wanted to tell me in public that you love me, you kept looking into my eyes and telling me you loved me, you told me to tell you, and I said it, I told you I loved you, I hadn’t said it before then, and I said it and I came and I cried and you plunged into me and filled me with your seed and you cried and the sun split the night and we clung to each other, we cried together, and you drank my tears…”

“Do you remember what I said, Hermione?” He ripped the remainder of her gown off and divested himself of his attire. He crawled atop her and then gripped her hips rolling her onto her stomach, pulling her arse up to point at his erection. “Tell me what I said…”

“You told me you would drink my tears to eat my sadness and take it away from me, you told me you would fill me with pleasure and happiness and that if ever I were sad to come to you and you would take it from me, you would hold it for me, you would suffer for me, suffer so I could be happy.”

“I meant it, Hermione.”

“I know.”

“I love you,” he thrust inside.

“I know,” she groaned, "And I love you."

“I need you, baby, so bad.” He started moving faster.

“I need you, Draco, Merlin knows how I need you…” she backed into him, meeting his movements.

“I love you, baby, I want you to know how much…”

“Show me, Draco, show me how much,” she pushed her chest and face into the mattress and reached behind herself to spread her thick thighs, she gave him more room to enter and he was balls deep pulsing inside, she could feel his throbs and hear his groans, he was holding back and she was grateful, she hadn’t been penetrated in months and he was being as gentle as he could, she was wet and tight but relaxing and easing into the rhythm. 

“Draco…” her voice was muffled and this was how he best remembered her, this was how she liked to cum, face in his sheets sniffing his night sweat on the bed, being ploughed into vigorously, hands gripping her hips, massaging her thighs, rubbing her lower back, his legs between hers, she would lock her knees into his to hold herself up as her shudders became more intense and then she would become incoherent, she would lose the daytime work-face Hermione and get lost in pleasure and she would call for him and he would come for her.

“Oh, Draco, yes, yes, yes, yes, hold me like that, touch me like that, love me like this, yes, Draco, Draco, Draco…” and her honey mouth spilled his name like ink all over white sheets, her drool pooling under face making her cheek sticky and she slipped forwards and he had to work harder to stay inside and not lose his focus or rhythm, and he quickened and she quickened and she pulsed and he moaned, and they pushed together and then he was crying with relief, and she was struggling to breath.

“Draco, Draco, Draco,”

“Oh baby, Hermione, Merlin, baby, I’m so glad you’re back with me, you’re staying with me, we belong together, I’m yours, your mine…”

“It’s all back, Draco, it was gone with the wind, but it was simply the eye of our passionate storm, it was gone with the rain but we’re reblossoming from the dampened soil, we’re new and clean and strong, and I love you, Draco, and I’m yours, and you’re mine…”

Draco came in a series of quick, intense pulses, his spurts filled her and Hermione clenched down on him and pushed back, she shuddered one last time before the explosion let go and she saw the golden flashes of light and her body collapsed and he fell on to her back and rolled her to her side and held her. He was still inside her and it felt right, she felt whole, she was complete and he was there and he was real and he was peaceful and, together, they drifted off to sleep knowing the future would be hard but that this was their forever, that they would never again let go of one another, that the love they had was true and strong and perfect. His arms wrapped around her and they didn’t move until sun up. 

Hermione never left. And she never again sat alone in the dark crying under the moon.


End file.
